


gonna use you and abuse you, gonna know what's inside you

by StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese



Series: inspired by wandavision [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Dimensions, Amnesia, Introspection, a lil disjointed, but lets be honest this whole show is a little disjointed, sorta - Freeform, this was written before the "ralph bohner" thing so he's x-men peter in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29602773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese/pseuds/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese
Summary: Peter's thoughts after Halloween, and before running into Monica.
Series: inspired by wandavision [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200608
Comments: 14
Kudos: 150





	gonna use you and abuse you, gonna know what's inside you

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from (of course) Eurythmics's "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)"

After Wanda threw him into the gravestones, Pietro didn’t see much point in sticking around, no matter how much he wanted to figure out _just what the hell was going on._

So once Wanda’s back was turned– and _woah,_ that was some freaky red-lightshow thing she was doing– he stood up, brushed off the hay, and zipped into the movie theater. It said that _The Incredibles_ was playing, and Pietro didn’t know what the plot was, but whatever it was, it had to be better than _this._

Besides, there was something wrong with his head, and he desperately needed to figure it out.

He ran into the movie theater, and it looked… empty, which was weird– hadn’t the matinée said there were at least two movies playing?– but whatever, at least he could have some peace and quiet to _think._

He kept getting these weird– _impulses._ Things like _this is your sister,_ and _you’ve been travelling,_ and _drive a wedge between her and her family, take away her support system, do it do it do it DO IT–_

He was _so over_ pretending to be some lady’s brother. He wasn’t sure where the real Pietro was or why Wanda was so damn attached to him, but he _did_ know that something– no, _everything–_ was very, _very_ wrong here.

For one thing, he couldn’t remember a thing before Westview.

“Travelling,” Wanda had said, with a hint of steel in her normally kinda-ditzy gaze. “You’ve been travelling.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Pietro said.

“Travelling,” she’d said, and smiled. “You’re back now, though.”

Well, he _did_ vaguely remember a super-nice mansion, and he _definitely_ wasn’t the kind of person to have one of those, so maybe…?

But anyway, it was just so damn weird, not in the least because of Wanda herself. Pietro could _feel her_ in there, pulling the strings in his head. Or– he could feel _someone_ in there, anyway. And if it wasn’t her, then who the hell was it?

And it was especially strange how sometimes she seemed like a slightly-airheaded, starry-eyed sitcom wife, but then she could turn on a dime and be… well… _completely and absolutely terrifying._

She reminded him of Jean.

–But he didn’t know a Jean, that was stupid. 

Well, Wanda had rejected him, anyway. Rejected his face. And just what the hell was wrong with his face, anyway, it was a _great_ face.

(And how had he even known that Vision was dead, anyway?)

He remembered one time, he and Beast had been watching this show together– god what was it called– Wanda something. 

Wanda something.

Wanda.

_Wandavis–_

**PETER, CAN YOU HEAR ME?**

–No, focus, Pietro. Stay focused!

That was another weird thing about this town. It pulled you sideways, kept you off balance, just when you thought you might be getting close to something, getting close to some _truth._

So for now, he was happy playing along. 

Well, not exactly _happy,_ because this place was seriously terrifying and _Twilight Zone_ -y, but he was happy to play along while lying in wait for literally anything that could _get him out of here._

He knew he wasn’t the real Pietro, because he wasn’t completely stupid, but the problem was that he didn’t know who he truly was, either.

So that was definitely an issue.

But he knew his memories were wrong. He _knew,_ from the bottom of his heart, that he was not Wanda’s real brother, and he _knew_ that Westview was not all there was, but every time Pietro tried thinking about his past, he would just get redirected to _Long-lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin' sister to death or what?_

Plus, his memories were telling him that he’d been shot, but he knew for sure that _that_ wasn’t right, because one, he was alive right now, thank you very much, and definitely not-shot, and _two,_ he was much too fast to get ganked by some measly bullets. Nah, it would have to take something superhuman– something _mutated_ – to kill Pietro Maximov.

Mutate. Why did that word set off so many alarms?

_–“Could be dangerous,” a young man said to him. “We’ll be monitoring you the whole time.”_

_Beside him, a giant blue Chewbacca gave him a thumbs up._

_“I’ll be fine,” Peter said, cracking his knuckles as he peered into the screen. The credits on the eighties-themed episode were rolling, and for some reason, the red guy was fighting it. God, this sitcom thing was creepy. “This’ll be easy!”_

_Famous last words.–_

Pietro reeled back, head suddenly splitting with pain. _What the hell was that?_

Then he blinked, looking around.

Hadn’t it been nighttime?

Why was there daylight coming in through the theater windows?

Pietro leapt to his feet. 

The kids. Wanda.

He had to get back to them.

But– but Wanda didn’t want him to come. The knowledge of it, even though he had no way of gaining that knowledge, sunk into his very bones.

Wanda wanted him gone.

But she couldn’t banish him, could she? She wanted to, but… she couldn’t.

There was something else at play. Some _one_ else.

Pietro readied himself and ran back to Wanda’s house. The scenery blurred around him, and _wow,_ superspeed was _amazing,_ why didn’t he use it more often? If he just didn’t focus, he could almost see a mansion around him, an explosion, a song playing– almost– reaching– _sweet dreams are–_

–There!

Pietro skidded to a stop, not bothering to look at Wanda’s house. If she wanted him gone, it would probably be best to lay low for a while. But somehow, he knew that there was something he needed to see here. There was somebody that he had to meet.

And then, there she was.

Across the street.

There was a woman standing in front of Whatsherface’s house, wearing… some kind of pale blue jumpsuit. 

_Well, that isn’t normal._

As Pietro watched, the woman strode across the yard, pausing in front of a storm cellar door, and ripped it open, padlock notwithstanding. 

_Thaaaaat’s_ definitely _not part of this whole “harmless, funny sitcom” gig._

Pietro blitzed over, and wound up standing right by the woman’s shoulder.

She peered down into the darkness, and gah, something about those vines down there definitely gave him the heebie-jeebies, but he had to focus. He had to stay on track. Don’t get distracted, don’t let the witch in. _Focus._

He leaned in close.

“Snoopers gonna snoop.”

The woman yelled out, whirled on him, and there was a bright flash of blue. Pietro felt _something_ slam into his chest, and he flew backwards.

_Not again!_

Peter crashed to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. 

“Who are you?” the woman snapped.

“Aaugghh,” Peter groaned. He tried to think. What was it that the crazy witch had called him? Petro? No, no, it was something– something European– _Pietro!_

“Pietro,” he gasped out. “Uh… Wanda’s brother, you know, the lady with the red hai–”

The woman took a step towards him. “You’re not Pietro Maximoff. Who are you?”

“Yes, I am,” Pietro snapped, annoyed. “I’m Pietro Maximov, I have a twin named Wanda, and I’ve been travelling for a while, which is why– ugh… no. No, that’s wrong.”

The woman raised her eyebrows. Blue light sizzled up and down her forearms. Pietro gulped.

“Who are you?” she asked again, and this time it was almost… gentle. The blue light fizzed out, and she held out her hands calmly. Non-threateningly. “I’ve been there before, I know what you’re fighting. Please. You can do this. Tell me. _What’s your name?”_

 _“Peter,”_ he said, automatically, and it was like a light switched on. Everything was still wrong, everything was still fuzzy, but he had something to hold on to now. He had his own name, and he wasn’t going to give it up so easily again. “Oh, God. Peter. Peter. My name is Peter.”

The woman smiled. “Okay, Peter,” she said. “I’m Monica.”

“Peter,” Peter said again, tasting the word, rolling it around his mouth. It felt right. It felt _so right,_ so much better than _Pietro,_ and somehow the _rightness_ of the word made everything else feel so, so much more wrong. “Thanks.”

“You’re probably a civilian,” Monica replied, all-business once more. “She couldn’t get her real brother–”

“Oh, yeah, what’s up with him?” Peter asked, climbing to his feet. 

“Dead,” Monica said. “Didn’t you know?”

Peter blinked. For a moment, he remembered standing in the street as bullets tore through him.

“...Yeah,” he said, slowly. “I guess I did.”

“Right, so the current theory is you’re normally a modern-day, non-powered Westview citizen,” Monica said. “Before, you were probably just an extra, but now, you’ve been recast–”

“As Pietro, Wanda’s brother with super speed,” Peter agreed. “Okay, sure.” He decided not to mention how super speed felt as natural as breathing to him, which it probably wouldn’t be if he was just some normal schmuck before all this.

“Well, either that, or you’re not real at all,” Monica said. “That’s the theory behind the twins.”

Peter blinked. “I don’t think so,” he said, patting his thighs. “I mean… I _feel_ real.” 

Monica nodded. “We’ll get your true self back,” she promised him. 

Suddenly, there was a scream from the basement, and Peter whirled towards it. How could he have forgotten?

“Wanda,” he said. He turned back towards Monica. “Something’s wrong.”

“Well, then,” Monica said grimly, cocking her gun, “shall we find out what the hell is going on down there that could scare the scariest Avenger?”

_What the hell is an Avenger?_

“Sounds like fun,” Peter said instead.

He didn’t really care one way or the other, anyway. He just hoped that the flashes would end, that he would find out who he really was, that the aching and pounding in his head would _stop._

He still didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t know why his memories were all gone, and why the ones he _did_ have were so, so wrong.

But he knew where he could find his answers.

**Peter, listen, we’re coming, okay? Stay where you are!**

Peter shook it off.

“Let’s go,” he said, and started down the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?


End file.
